Gabbie Flowers

CHAPTER ONE
THE GIRL WHO FLIES
“Oh drats,” Gabbie said as the silver cord attached to her belly whisked her from the Hall of Reconnection and back to the brownstone on East 68th Street, where she lived with her Nana Alice, her father Michael and older sister, Victoria. She wished she had more time, but the alarm was ringing in her bedroom and her sister was getting tired of trying to wake her.
“See you to tomorrow night,” she shouted to her mother Katherine, though her voice was now barely a whisper. I followed her through the wall between dimensions. Her blonde bob twisted like rope as her soul soared through the morning sky. We zoomed past the skyscrapers looming over the city. The streets were quiet except for the squeal of a distant garbage truck. Taking a sharp left around a fifty-story building we headed south towards the center of town. To the people inside the building and to anyone loitering on the streets, we were totally invisible.
Gabbie squeezed her hazel eyes shut as she approached her home. It still freaked her out to pass through things, though she didn’t feel a thing.
Swish!
We traveled through the red clay roof tiles, just like a rush of wind through the maple tree outside her bedroom window. We went through the attic filled with old junk Nana Alice didn’t have the heart to get rid of. There was the highchair the girls used before they came to live there. Gabbie’s tricycle and Victoria’s scooter, and a steamer trunk plastered with stickers from far away places. Gabbie told me, one day, we’re going go to each and everyone of them. And thanks to the silver cord attached to her belly button, her soul could travel anywhere in the universe while she slept.
Inside the trunk was fancy dress up clothes. Gabbie loved to play dress-up. But Victoria, two years her senior, didn’t have time, or the desire to play the games they used to play. “I’m almost thirteen,” she said, “too old to pretend I’m a princess.” Or a movie star. Or an heiress, who lived in one of those fancy penthouse apartments on Fifth Avenue. She’d rather read, or text her friends.
Gabbie tried to talk me into playing dress-up, but I refused, not in my job description, I said. So the old fur stoles and yards of costume pearls gathered dust instead of applause and laughter.
As Gabbie’s soul passed through her bedroom ceiling she flailed her arms trying to steer to the left. I knew at this rate she’d miss her body completely and pass through Victoria, who was standing over her bed blowing hard into a whistle. I gave her a shove. It’s a horrible feeling to pass through a human being. Thankfully, it worked.
As soon as Gabbie’s soul merged with her body, she sprang up in bed. Her eyes popped open. “I’m up,” she said clamping her hands over her ears.

The whistle ceased. “You better hurry up, breakfast is ready,” Victoria huffed. She spun on her heal and headed towards the staircase. Her steps were light as she floated down the steps. Gabbie, on the other hand, could wake the dead. She stomped down the stairs like a herd of elephants causing everything in the house to shake. Nana tried, unsuccessfully, to teach her granddaughter to tread lightly, to glide instead of stomp. If there was one consolation Nana thought, it was that she always knew where Gabbie was and what she was up to.
Gabbie whipped off the covers and raced across the room. She pulled on a white blouse and a blue and green plaid skirt. She hated that skirt and wished it were different colors. But she had no choice. It was St. Bernadette’s uniform and until she went to middle school, she had to endure it.
She rolled on a pair of socks. One drooped sadly into the heel of her patent-leather shoe, but she didn’t care. She raced down the stairs. The plates in the cupboard rattled and the silverware in the drawers clanked as she jumped the last remaining steps and landed with a thump. She rounded the corner and flew into the kitchen, plowing smack into her Nana as she stood at the stove.
“Whoa,” Nana said as she teetered back and forth.
Gabbie grabbed her by her fleshy arms. “Sorry,” she said as she helped to steady her.
Nana sighed. “I swear child one day you’ll be the death of me.”
I said good morning to Alice, but as usual she ignored me.
Gabbie took the bowl of oatmeal from her grandmother and joined Victoria at the table. Her auburn hair was perfectly combed unlike Gabbie’s, which stood straight off the front of her forehead. It was as soft as corn-silk and had a mind of it’s own.
I took a seat next to her at the table.
She couldn’t wait to her Nana about last night’s adventure. She knew Victoria would roll her eyes, she always did when Gabbie talked of our adventures. But it didn’t stop her. She told Nana every detail, whether her sister believed her or not.
“Samuel took me to the Hall of Reconnection. It was totally awesome. I saw Mama there. She looked so beautiful. Like she did when she was alive, only prettier…it was like she… glowed,” she said excitedly.
Victoria didn’t disappoint her. She rolled her eyes right on clue. “Oh please, it was just a dream,” she said. The same as she always did.
Gabbie shouted, “It wasn’t a dream, it was real.” The same as she always did. But nothing Gabbie could say would convince Victoria that her soul left her body at night while she slept. And she certainly didn’t believe I was there too.
And who am I?
I’m Samuel. Gabbie’s so called invisible friend.